


While You Were Gone

by Katlover98



Series: While You Were Gone Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother!Dean, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Self-Harm, Suicide, Torture, clueless!dean, emotionally unstable! Sam, non-con, suicidal attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlover98/pseuds/Katlover98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam did look for Dean, but then something horrible happened to him that made him stop. After Dean came back he kept it a secret. But that secret is about to be discovered and a whole box of hurt that Sam thought he had buried has come back with a vengeance. Originally I was going to write one long one shot but decided to make it a multichapter. *Warning, SUICIDE, RAPE, &SELF HARM*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural; it all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke
> 
> Warning: Suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self-harm, and non-con/rape

Dean was gone and this time Sam had no idea where he was. Sam could only assume that he was dead. He tried looking for his brother, God had he tried. He has barely slept for those four long months catching, questioning and, occasionally torturing any and every creature he could. He went after demons, Levis, and even an angel and a cupid. But nobody knew where his brother was at and if they did, they didn't say. He had been talking to hunters even though he knew some of them still hated his guts but for his brother he'd do anything. Or so he thought.

For a long four weeks he had been imprisoned, tortured and… he didn't even want to think the word, which is how he ended up drunk off the highway sitting on the Impala with a gun in his hands. Sam felt empty; his will to live had long ago shattered until all he felt was a gapping black hole. What was the point of even being alive? Everyone who he loved was dead, more importantly, Dean was gone.

Dean, his big brother, his best friend, was gone and Sam had failed to find him. He took another long swig out of the bottle of whiskey he was drinking trying to ignore the blood coming from between his thighs coating his jeans red, trying to ignore the pain on his back, the pain radiating from his feet. Most importantly, Sam was trying to forget the pain he felt coming from his heart.

Sam looked at the gun in his hand, "Why not," he asked aloud. Dean wasn't around to stop him and if he died he would be able to see Dean again. They would be in heaven together riding the Impala down a long stretch of road remembering the good old days, seeing all of their old friends and their family, forgetting about their fucked up lives. Dying seemed to be better to Sam than staying alive in this God forsaken world.

With one last swig of his drink and, without hesitation, he put the gun right over his heart and pulled the trigger; everything went dark afterwards.

* * *

" _Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you've ever been!_ "

Those words kept going around Sam's mind over and over again even though it has been almost a whole week since Dean had spoken them. When Dean had come back it had been the best thing that could've happened to Sam. He was ecstatic when he had received the call from Dean and he had, as quickly as he could, gotten to Rufus' cabin.

There had been the usual attack with the tests and when those had been passed, the reunion came. There was the hugging and the patting of backs and the happy feeling of seeing each other again but then, Dean had asked the question.

" _Did you even look for me_ ,  _Sam?_ "

A soon as Dean had said that Sam had a flashback of that long month being stuck in a basement with a bunch of crazy, sadistic, perverts. Dean, though, had taken Sam's silence as a 'no' and had immediately started attacking and Sam had let him.

Sam had let him because he'd rather Dean thought that Sam hadn't looked for him than let him know the truth; that his little brother was a coward, that his little brother had failed to find him and had gotten captured. More than that Sam was afraid of Dean's reaction.

Would he look at him with disgust? Would Dean think of him as weak? Or worse yet, would Dean look at Sam with pity? Sam wouldn't be able to live through it if Dean ever looked at Sam with pity in his eyes. Sam was also afraid of what Dean would  _do_ if he found out; he would surely go after his attackers and kill them.

Sam was afraid that when (and he knew it wouldn't be  _if,_ it would be  _when_ ) he went after his attackers Dean would be hurt or worse, killed. Besides, his attackers had been human, (even if he did think that word loosely in describing them), and Sam didn't want any more human blood on his hands because if Dean ever did find out and killed them, the blood would fall on Sam's hands.

So he kept quiet and just took Dean's jibes one at a time hoping that Dean would calm down after a while.

Still, it hurt Sam to hear his older brother, the person he looked up to the most, to say all those things to him; it hurt Sam to his very core. But he'll take the blame and live through it as long as he had to.

Sam heard the motel door open and saw Dean walk in with food. He didn't even glanced at Sam, just put the food down and got in the shower. For some reason Dean not talking to him or even glancing his way hurt a thousand times more than if Dean was giving him a snide remark. It felt as if Dean had given up on him, on them.

Sam gave a snort and said aloud, "Doesn't that sound like a couple going through relationship problems. Dean is right, I  _am_ a friggin' girl."

Sam heard the shower turn off and suddenly he couldn't stand the silence that he knew was going to come when Dean came out of the bathroom. Sam felt claustrophobic in the motel room and decided he needed to go out. So he left a note to Dean saying he would go out for a while, more out of habit because he knew Dean didn't worry about him anymore, and went to go find a bar somewhere.

When Dean came out of shower and he didn't see Sam sitting on his bed and sulking he started to panic a little. His duffel was still sitting on his bed so he hadn't left him (again) and Dean hadn't heard any struggling noises or sees anything upturned so Sam couldn't have been kidnapped. Just then he saw the piece of paper under the six packs on the table and he went to go read it.

_Dean, gone out for a while, don't worry and don't wait up. Be back soon_

_Sam_

Dean just snorted and put the note down. Of course Sam would leave without at least waiting for Dean to come out and tell him in his face. He had to wait for Dean to be in the shower so he could go.

' _Whatever'_ , thought Dean and settled down on his bed with the remote in hand. Even while he was just in his motel room surfing through the TV, Dean couldn't seem to calm down. He was always so wound tight and on high alert these days.

Dean knew that he was out of purgatory but his body seemed to have forgotten the memo and his instincts were always on high alert listening to every little sound and winding his body tight for an attack. Purgatory had done wonders for his hunting and fighting skills but made relaxing and winding down a bitch.

He wonders how well his instincts would've been like if Sam had found a way to get him out of purgatory but, of course his little  _brother_  had decided to abandon him in God's prison for monsters for  _normal._

And ain't that just a kick to the nads because even when Dean had promised not to look for a way to get Sam out of the cage, he still tried. But what does Sam do the moment it happens to Dean, he leaves him to rot and Sam goes and plays house with a girl and a dog. Just thinking about it made Dean get pissed off.

Dean kept changing the channels until he found some porn on the TV. Huh, he hadn't known they had some free Skinemax. All well, he might as well enjoy, maybe some Casa Erotica was all he needed to relax some…

Dean woke to the sound of his phone ringing at three thirty in the morning. He saw the caller ID and groaned out loud, "What, Sam?"

"Hello, is this Dean?" A female voice asked on the other line. Dean was instantly alert.

"Yea, who are you and where's my brother?"

"I'm going to assume that the really tall dude who looks as if someone has killed his puppy is your brother. He's down here in Dowling's bar right off 23rd. I was wondering if you can come get him. He is, like, ridiculously hammer and we're about to close. I just don't feel right sending him out like this, he could get hurt, you know."

Dean just sighed and said, "I'll be right there."

He hung up the phone to just lie in bed for a minute or two. Dean knew where Dowling's was at, he had been there just last night and it was just a two minute drive from here. Still, Dean did not feel like getting up just to get his little brother out of trouble,  _again._

Dean still got up to get ready, though. After all Sam was a light weight and Dean didn't want him walking out at night while he was drunk even if it was a ten minute walk. Even while mad Dean's older brotherly instincts took over. Apparently those instincts never left even after a year of war and blood and death.

Dean got ready, got in the car and started driving towards the bar cursing at Sam because Dean could be sleeping right now instead of going to pick up an annoying brother that couldn't keep his liquor down. Getting out of the car and opening the door to the bar, Dean was contemplating the best way to kick Sam's ass...

"What the hell," Dean had opened the door to see Sam crying in the corner while having his knees up and rocking himself. There was a petite red hair trying to calm Sam down.

"What the fuck is going on here," Dean said while running towards his brother. As he got closer he could hear that Sam was whispering something to himself but Dean couldn't really make out the words.

"Oh, thank God. Are you Dean, I am so glad you're here."

"What the hell happened?"

"Well, after I hung up that jerk Mike came up and started flirting with him. Sam said no but Mike started touching his thigh and then whispered something in Sam's ear. Sam just went pale white, punched Mike and knocked him out and came to the corner and this… sort of happened." She just shrugged at the end.

Dean was looking at the guy that the girl had pointed at. He was a little taller than Dean but buffer than either he or Sam. He was clearly out cold and he wasn't going to get up anytime soon.

Dean turned away from him and in the gentlest voice that he could, started talking reassurance nonsense to Sam.

"Hey, Sammy, calm down now. I'm here now, shhh shh, now, don't cry. I'm here; I'm here now, shh, shh."

After a while Sam calmed down and his sobs had turned into hiccups. Dean just kept rubbing his back, talking to him.

"C'mon, Sammy, let's get you up and put you into bed, okay?" Just as Sam started getting up the douchebag that was on the floor groaned and started getting up. Sam whimpered a little and started sitting back down.

"What the fuck happened," said the guy (Mikey?) as he got up to his full height. Dean had been wrong the first time, the fucker had been taller than even Sam and it made Dean proud that his little brother was able to knock him out with just one blow even while drunk.

The blond douchebag got up, started shaking his head, and looked towards their direction. Dean got in front of his little brother ready to protect Sam as soon as he needed to. Mike just looked around for a second or two confused and then his eyes fell on Sam and mask of anger overcame his face.

"That little  _bitch,_ I'm going to beat the  _shit_  out of him," and the son of a bitch just charged forward.

Dean's big brother instincts to protect his kid and purgatory's killer instincts came to the fore front and that was a horrible combination for Mike. The blond had no idea what had just hit him, he may have been taller than Sam and buffer than Dean but Dean had just spent the whole year killing things that could snap this fucker in half right down the middle. In the end it was no contest, Dean was on top of Mike beating the shit out  _him_  and enjoying it. This fucker had hurt his little brother and Dean was going to fucking _kill_  him.

Just as Dean was about to hit Mike again he heard a whimper and a yell for him to 'stop'. It wasn't the yell that caught his attention (that had come from the red hair); it was the whimper that stopped him.

Through the red haze of rage and need to kill Dean was still attuned to his little brother and Sam was scared, if the whimper was anything to go by. Dean gave one last look to the guy who was now unconscious with bruises all over his face and most likely a few broken bones here and there, and then turned to look at his brother.

The little red hair woman was over Sam as if she was trying to protect him which would've been comical if Dean wasn't actually kind of grateful that she would try to protect Sam.

Sheryl saw the tall angry man, Dean, walk towards her and the other man cowering on the floor and she folded more into herself and tried to also protect the guy, Sam. Dean was quite the sight. After she had seen him calm down Sam from having his panic attack he was about to leave with him when Mike had woken up. That's when all hell had broken loose.

Sheryl knew Mike, unfortunately he was a regular. He kept bragging about all those weights that he does and how strong he is. He has started quite a few fights in the bar and Sheryl or Chris (the other bartender) would usually have to call the police to break it up. Mike also had the tendency to flirt and molest whoever caught his eyes whether they are male or female. They usually said no and he would get mad. Hell, guys that have been in the army had started fights with Mike for that very reason; Mike would lose some, Mike would win some. But she had never seen a guy like this before.

The moment Mike had charged Dean had just thrown a punch that almost knocked Mike out. But he didn't stop there, he kept punching and kicking Mike and went on for a minute or two until she thought Dean would kill Mike. She had stood there frozen, trying to get in front of Sam (which is pretty funny she would think later) and yelled stop at the same time Sam whimpered 'Dean'.

Just like that the punches stopped and Dean started walking towards them. Sheryl shrunk a little into herself and got closer to Sam. She could hear what he was whispering the whole time since he went to the corner and it was breaking her heart. She had a cousin that went through the same thing and even though it's been 4 years she still has triggers that can give her full blown panic attacks; maybe that's why she felt the need to protect him.

"Don't worry; I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to get my brother and go home."

Sheryl took a good look at him. He wasn't hurt at all, he wasn't breathing hard and he  _looked_ calm but she could see that was just a façade; he was close to exploding again and she kind of didn't want Sam anywhere near him.

"Please, I just want to take him home and make sure he's fine," while he said that he looked so concerned and genuine that she believed him and stepped back.

Dean didn't waste a second, he walked up to Sam and helped him get up, "Dee, I wanna go home, please take me home. Please."

Hearing Sam use his childhood nickname and begging him broke Dean's heart. Dean was also worried as to why his little brother was acting like this. Was it hell's memories? Cas might have healed him of his hallucinations but the memories were still there and they could be affecting him right now.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and almost attacked again until he saw it was the red hair. She looked a little frightened but gave him a card.

"They really helped my cousin after it happened to her. She's better now but if it happened to him recently it explains why he's acting like that. Just give them a call."

"Lady, I have no idea what you're talking about but I doubt your cousin survived what my brother did." She just smiled at him and said, "It might feel that way but there are support groups and though it might not be the same for everyone it is similar."

Dean just rolled his eyes and took the card just to get her off his back.

"C'mon Sammy, let's get you the in the car." Sam didn't let go of him he had crouched down and was hugging Dean around the waist. He knew that must not be comfortable for his gigantic brother but Dean didn't say anything because he knew Sam needed to feel Dean close.

Dean went to the passenger side and put Sam in because Sam did not want to let go of Dean.

"C'mon Sammy, the sooner you get in the sooner we get to the motel," Sam just whimpered and hugged Dean closer; Dean sighed.

"Sorry kiddo, but in you go," he pushed Sam in the car and jogged quickly over to his side so Sam wouldn't have a panic attack. The moment he went in Sam hugged him.

"Sam, I won't be able to drive with you hugging me like this," Dean had no idea what to do; Sam was clinging to Dean like when Sam was five years old.

"C'mon, kiddo, I'll make you a deal, you can hold my hand while I drive and once we get to the motel you can hug me all you want; hell we can cuddle if that's what you want."

Sam just looked at Dean with wet eyelashes, let go and took hold of Dean's right hand.

"Atta boy," said Dean with a small smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tells Dean what happened to him while Dean was gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Same as chapter 1; WARNING: talk and details of rape, suicide, suicide attempts and self-harm. Some talk of torture. Do not read if it is a trigger.   
> Enjoy.

Dean didn’t have to convince Sam out of the car, the moment Dean opened the door to the passenger side Sam clung to him like a freaking monkey; on second thought more like a gorilla.

“Okay, little brother, you have to give me some space so I can open the door to our room,” while Dean was talking he could feel Sam feeling around in his pockets, “Hey, what are you doing Sammy, I don’t swing that way,” Dean heard a whimper while he said that and the key was in front of his face. Well, it seems Sam really _isn’t_ going to let him go anytime soon.

It was kind of awkward getting into the room but they managed to get through the door once Dean turned both he and Sam sideways.

“C’mon Sammy, sit on the bed for me, would’ ya,” he asked. Dean was able to have Sam sitting on the bed and he started taking Sam’s clothes off; kid must be uncomfortable in them.

The moment Sam felt a tug on his jacket he started screaming. It scared the shit out of Dean so much he let go and Sam scrambled up to the head board and put himself on the same position he was in earlier at the bar, with his knees up and hugging himself tight.

Dean walked slowly up to his brother not wanting to scare him more, “Hey, Sammy I’m not trying to hurt you, okay? I just want to help you get comfortable.” Sam didn’t look up and had faraway look on his face, his eyes were full of fear; no _terror_.

“Sam? Sammy?” Dean rubbed his hands over his face thinking things over. What had gotten his little brother like this? The first time was because of that douchebag, this time it was because Dean had tried to take off his jacket. There was something in the back of Dean’s mind that was trying to piece it all together; something that his gut told him he _didn’t_ want to find out.

First, though, he had a little brother to take care of so he put his thoughts in the back of his mind and sat by Sam on the bed. Sam flinched a little but didn’t do anything else so Dean took that as a good sign.

“Hey, Sammy, look at me. Sammy,” he said gently. Dean put his hands on Sam’s shoulder and he finally looked up at Dean. Dean fought the urge to shake his little brother and ask what the hell was going on in his freaky head but, he didn’t; Dean didn’t want Sam to feel threaten and scared all at once.

Dean just kept his hand on Sam’s shoulder and kept talking to him. He would make lame jokes and give reassuring, ‘you’re safe, Sam’ and ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Sammy.’ After about half an hour Sam calmed down and got up. 

“You okay now, Sammy?”

Sam nodded and started in the direction of the bathroom but then he stumbled; yep still drunk off his ass. Dean got up and helped Sam right back to the bed.

“What were you trying to do? Do you need to hit the head?” Sam shook his head no, “Actually, I was ‘bout go change. The’se clothes ‘re dirty,” he slurred. Dean didn’t point out that Sam had forgotten to take clothes with him while he was walking towards the bathroom.

Dean patted Sam’s back and said, “Well, you can change out here it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before so it ain’t gonna scare me or anything. Not to mention I can help because you, little brother, are hammered.”

Sam lifted his head up and looked at Dean, “I would rather do ’t myself, in, ya know, bathroom.” Dean rolled his eyes and started taking Sam’s jacket off again. It was Dean’s job to help and protect his baby brother even if said brother doesn’t want any.

“No, Dean, p’ease, I don’t need help, I wanna do ‘t myself, please.” Dean looked at Sam and he could see that Sam had tears on his eyes again.

“Tell you what; if you can stand up and walk without stumbling or anything I’ll let you go change in the bathroom.”

Sam got up and put a determined look on his face while he stood up. He wobbled a little and began stumbling towards the bathroom, forgetting to take his clothes; again. He kept stumbling and after a minute of this Dean lost his patience, grabbed Sam from behind and took off his jacket.

“Sam this is ridiculous. C’mon I’m helping you rather you want it or not.”

“No, Dean, p’ease, lemme do it myself. P’ease,” Sam looked up at Dean and he had haunted look on his face making him look younger than he had any right to.

“Sorry, Sammy, I have to help you with your clothes or you’re gonna end up falling and getting a concussion or something.”

Dean started unbuttoning Sam’s first shirt and took it off, leaving his undershirt on. He then got down and took Sam’s boots and socks off, “Geez, Sam, your feet stink,” he tried to lighten the mood but it didn’t work. Sam was shivering so Dean got out Sam’s sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt so he can put them on Sam.

“Okay, Sam drop ‘em and then put these on,” Sam looked at Dean wide-eyed and shook his head no. Dean sighed, “Sam we can do this the hard way or we can do these the easy way but you _are_ going to take off your pants.”

“No, no, no, no, please, no,” Dean knew that Sam was hiding something considering how adamant he was of Dean not seeing him naked. Not to mention, now that Dean thought about it Sam hasn’t changed in front of Dean since his return. Sam would always take his clothes in the bathroom when he was going to shower. Dean hadn’t noticed because he had been too angry at Sam but now…

“Okay, big fellow have it your way,” Dean started towards Sam and he put up a face of resignation. For some reason it didn’t make Dean feel better; he felt like he was bullying a puppy and then kicking it while it was down.

Dean started unbuttoning Sam’s jeans and Sam even got up a little so Dean could shimmy them down. Once the jeans were off Dean looked with critical eyes at Sam’s legs; it didn’t take long for him to find what Sam was trying to hide from him. Sam had a long scar on his lower left leg starting up from just below the back of his knee and curling all the way down to just a little above his ankle. If dean didn’t know any better he would’ve thought it was a whip mark.

But if it was a whip mark where had Sam gotten it if he had quit hunting and settled down for normal. And what the hell kinda whip had been used to leave such an ugly, painful looking scar. There’s no way that only stitches could’ve helped closed it, Sam would’ve had to go to a doctor’s for some help.

While Dean was tracing the scar on Sam’s leg he asked, “Sam, where did you get this?”

Sam just kept shaking his head so hard that Dean was surprised he didn’t get whiplash, “Sam, please, I just need to know where and how you got this because I know for a fact it wasn’t there before I went to purgatory and it looks too old for it to have happened recently. Not to mention I would’ve notice if you have gotten hurt recently even with my head stuck up my ass.”

Sam stayed silent and refused to look straight at Dean’s eyes. He kept alternating at looking between the floor and the ugly yellow and flower print wallpaper that the motel room had.

“Sam, you wanna tell me where you got this,” Sam just continued looking at the wall. Dean sighed and helped Sam put on his sweatpants. Sam then went to lie down.

“Whoa, Sammy, I know you’re tired but we need to change your undershirt, too.” Sam shook his head no.

“I don’t wanna get up anymore, can’t I just sleep like this, please,” Sam sounded more sober and he looked up at Dean with his puppy eyes on full force. Dean was just about to say yes when he suddenly stopped. What if Sam was hiding something else from Dean? Yeah, the scar was bad but that wouldn’t have been enough for Sam to put up a bitch fit so Dean wouldn’t change him. Besides, if that had only been it than Sam would’ve changed in front of Dean before and probably come up with some excuse that Dean would’ve most likely believed. Not to mention the panic attacks Sam had had earlier. No, something else was wrong here; Dean could feel it like it was a breathing, living thing.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Dean answered with a bit of fake cheer, “but that undershirt is dirty and I don’t want you to sleep with it. Besides, imagine how much that shirt will stink when you wake up later.”

Sam buried himself deeper into his blanket, “I’m cold, Dean. I don’t feel like getting up and changing my shirt, can’t I just _please_ go to sleep.” If Dean had thought Sam was using his puppy eyes on full force earlier he was wrong, that was nothing compared to this. Still, Dean just stood his ground.

“No can do Sammy, besides this shirt is warmer than that one. C’mon the sooner we change that stinky shirt the sooner you can go back to bed.”

It took a moment or two but Sam pulled the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed again. Dean was beginning to think maybe he was just being paranoid until he touched Sam and could feel him shaking.

Dean started going for the hem of Sam’s shirt when Sam put a hand on his arm and looked up at Dean, a look of despair in his eyes.

“Dean I am so, so sorry. Please don’t hate me, please. I just wanted the feelings to go away. Please don’t hate me. Please!” Dean felt a big rock settle at the bottom of his stomach when he heard Sam say that and he couldn’t take off Sam’s shirt fast enough.

When he did manage to get Sam’s shirt off Dean almost got sick from what he saw. Sam had _a lot_ of horizontal scars on both his arms starting from his shoulder and stopping just a little below his elbow. The scars varied from very thin and barely there to big, thick ones that Dean knew had needed stitches so Sam wouldn’t bleed out. Dean couldn’t help but get his little brothers arms so he could see the scars better and that’s when he noticed something else.

Dean knew a bullet wound when he saw one. Dean had helped get a few out of both Sam and Dad. Hell, he had had a few, too. So when he saw a round hole just over Sam’s heart he knew what it was. Someone had shot his little brother. How the hell had he survived with a wound like that, it was right were his heart should be. Dean just kept staring at his little brother with shock.

What the hell had happened to Sam for him to have so many scars on his body? Dean really needed answers yesterday. He looked up to ask Sam just that when he noticed that Sam was still talking; still apologizing.

“I am so, so sorry Dee. Please don’t hate me. Don’t hate me, don’t hate me, please. Please, please, please. I’m sorry, I just kept feeling their hands on me and I wanted it to stop. Please don’t hate me. I just wanted the feeling in my chest to go away. Don’t hate me, don’t hate me.” With every word Sam said Dean’s heart shattered a little more. Not to mention what Sammy was implying. What the fuck had his brother gone through while Dean was fighting his way out of purgatory? He was going to find out soon, but first…

“Whoa, hey there, Sammy, calm down. You’re having another panic attack,” and Sam _was_ having another panic attack, his breaths getting shorter and shallower, he was clammy and cold as well as trembling, or maybe it was shivering as he still didn’t have a shirt on.

“Sammy, calm down now I don’t hate you, baby. I can never hate you. Come here, baby boy, come here. Shh, shh-shh.” Dean took a hold of Sam and was hugging and rocking him like when he did when Sam was five and had just woken from a nightmare, until Sam calmed down which took a long time; the sun was already starting to rise over in the horizon.

When Sam had stopped crying and was just sniffling, Dean got up and off the bed; he heard Sam whimper a little.

“It’s okay, Sammy, I’m just going to the bathroom and get a towel, okay? To clean off your face a little,” ‘cuz Sam’s face was full of tear tracks and mucus.

Dean went into the bathroom but left the door open so he could hear Sam, he was hiccupping now. He got a small white towel, wet and wringed it out before going out to his little brother.

Sam had put on the shirt Dean had picked out for him and was lying on the bed curled up under the covers, making his body small. Dean went to him and started cleaning his face. Sam was giving him a very watered down version of his bitch face but made it Dean kind of glad that his brother could even make one.

Dean sat on the headboard over the covers, close to Sammy. Sam unconsciously moved a little closer to his big brother, the one who had all the answers and could fix everything with just a few words. Though in the back of his mind Sam knew Dean couldn’t fix this, couldn’t fix Sam because he was broken beyond repair.

Dean looked down at Sam and started stroking Sam’s chestnut colored hair. Sam gave a little pleased noise and buried himself deeper into the covers. That made Dean smile which seemed out of place to him considering what he had just seen on his kid brother and what Sam just went through.

“Sam, where did you get all those scars, what happened while I was gone? The truth this time,” because obviously Sam had lied about what he had done the past year and Dean was going to get it out of him. Then he was going to hunt down whoever had done this to his brother and kill them slowly and without mercy.

Sam shook his head ‘no’ and put the cover over his head. Dean sighed for what felt the millionth time this morning and pulled the covers off of Sam’s head. Sam gave him a little glare but didn’t seem to have the energy to keep it up for more than two seconds and tried to pull the covers over his head again, “I’m sleepy,” said a very alert and very awake voice. Dean knew that Sam must be tired with all the panic attacks he’s had and all the crying but Dean really needed answers.

So, he got his little brother, covers and all, pulled him up and put Sam’s head over Dean’s heart so Sam could hear the beat of it. The rest of Sam’s body was partly on Dean’s upper half and Sam’s legs on the bed still.

Dean felt Sam wiggling around a little and Dean let him. He knew that Sam was tired and weak at the moment and would soon loose what little bit of energy he still had left. It didn’t take too long, Sam tired out before a minute even passed.

“The truth this time, Sam, I mean it little brother.”

Sam shook his head again, “if I tell you everything you’ll hate me and then leave me. I don’t want you to leave; I just got you back again.”

“Sam, I could never leave you and I definitely could never hate you,” Dean repeated because apparently Sam’s stubborn head had convinced Sam that Dean would hate him. Of course, the way Dean had been acting lately could have also reinforced that thought. But come on, for all of Sam’s intelligence he came up with the stupidest and most wrong ideas because no matter what Dean couldn’t hate Sam. He had raised the kid; hell Sam _was_ his kid.

“You won’t be saying that soon,” Sam shook his head again and said, “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you. I really must be drunk.” Dean just held Sam closer to encourage Sam to tell him. Instinctively Dean knew if he said something now Sam would lose his courage to tell him anything and then Dean might never know what happened to his Sammy while they were apart.

Sam licked his dry lips a few times before he started talking again. He couldn’t believe he was about to tell Dean everything but a small part was hoping that Dean could help him. That maybe, just maybe, his big brother would help him carry part of this burden because it was becoming way too big for Sam to carry it alone. He knew he was being selfish and that Dean had enough on his shoulder but he couldn’t help it; he had always been the selfish one. Hopefully at the end of it all Dean won’t leave. Sam wouldn’t care if Dean hated him, Sam just couldn’t be alone without Dean anymore.

“After, after you and Cass disappeared, when you ganked Dick Roman,” Sam took a deep breath, “Crowley started taunting me that I was alone after he took Kevin. A part of me didn’t believe it so I started researching like crazy, trying to find out where you could’ve been. I went after a few monsters, demons, an angel and a cupid but,” Sam licked his lips again, “nobody could tell me where you were and if they did know, they didn’t tell me. I went to ask some leviathans but they didn’t say much, just tried to, you know, eat me.” Sam stopped for a minute to get more courage to continue.

Dean cupped Sam’s face and was cleaning the fresh tears that were coming out of Sam with his thumb, “Why did you tell me that you hadn’t looked for me,” because Dean really needed to know.

“I didn’t say anything, you just kind of assumed,” Sam said while he shrugged his shoulders.

That hit Dean like a semi-truck because Sam was right. Sam hadn’t actually verbally said that he hadn’t looked for Dean. He had remained quiet and Dean started asking him what had Sam done that year and then Sam had fed him the whole ‘hitting the dog and meeting Amelia’ story. Dean felt horrible now because all that time he was attacking Sam and throwing shit to his face, Sam had been suffering. Dean felt like the worst person in the world. Had he really fallen that far from the human reservation that he couldn’t even figure out that something had been wrong with the story Sam had tried to spoon feed him? He was taken out of his thoughts when he felt a thump to his chest.

“Stop that, I _let_ you assume. So don’t do what you always do and take all the blame yourself, it was my fault.”

Dean didn’t say anything because he wanted to keep Sam talking but Dean knew that it was his fault. It was his fault because looking back now, Sam had given signs, not just changing in the bathroom either, but other signs as well. He would flinch if Dean would touch him without warning and Sam had started to avoid going where there would be big crowds. He would also space out suddenly and have a faraway look on his face. Dean had always assumed that Sam was just remembering his time with Amelia but now, he wasn’t so sure. Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when Sam started talking again.

“After going to monsters and other supernatural beings didn’t help, I…I kind of turned to other hunters,” Sam had whispered the last word and Dean held Sam closer to him. Hunters, his little brother had gone to freaking _hunters,_ some of which still hated their guts and thought Sam should be put down.

“But I didn’t get hurt much,” he said quickly so Dean wouldn’t worry, “I just got a few punches here and there and shot once or twice.”

In trying to reassure his brother, Dean just tensed up even more and Sam knew he had made a mistake, “They shot at you, is that how you have that hole on your chest.”

“No, that, that comes later in the story.” Dean drew his brother impossibly closer to him, “Continue,” he ordered; because that’s what it was an order that his little brother tell him everything.

Sam took another deep breath. He knew he couldn’t stop now. Dean was too worried, too engrossed with what Sam was saying to even let him think that Sam could stop. Really, if Sam did stop now Dean would just wear him down and keep bugging him until he told him the whole story so Sam continued.

“After a few dead ends I ran into another hunter, Mandy. She was really nice and helpful. She let me use her very extensive library and gave me names of hunters that she trusted. When I asked why she was helping me or if she hadn’t heard about me she answered, ‘Course I’ve heard of you. Sam and Dean Winchester, you and you’re brothers are living legends. Bobby’s boys, I knew Bobby, he helped me when I started out so I want to return the favor by helping you and, hopefully, your brother. As for what I’ve heard about you, well I don’t trust rumors and you seem like a good guy. Besides if Bobby trusted you, so do I.’

 “To me, Mandy was a god send. She helped me comb through books, gave me names and addresses of hunters that she trusted and had an extensive knowledge of the supernatural. Most even had libraries that would’ve had Bobby drooling, but I _couldn’t_ find _anything_ on where you could have been.”

“After four months I was at the end of my rope. Mandy said she didn’t have anyone else, the Campbell’s library had nothing, most of Bobby’s books were ruined, and I wasn’t getting any answers. So I did the only reasonable thing that any Winchester could do; I got drunk off my ass. Mandy had to go pick me up because I could barely walk and let me stay with her for the night.”

Dean felt Sam tense suddenly and he knew something bad was coming up so Dean tried to steel himself.

“The next morning I woke up with the mother of all hangovers. Mandy wasn’t home so I decided to snoop around to find anything for my headache. I opened a little drawer and saw an address book. I was about to close the drawer when my curiosity got the better out of me and I took it out. I looked through it and saw that it was all the contacts that she had given me and just when I was about to put it back in I saw a name I’d never heard before.”

“I instantly forgot my headache and wrote down the name, number, and address from the book,” Sam suddenly laughed without any humor, “it never even occurred to me that there was a reason she hadn’t given me that particular name.”

“I finally had another lead that would hopefully bear some fruit for me. I left that same night telling Mandy I thought of a new lead. She told me to be careful and call her when I could. I said I would and left.”

“After driving for two days I found the address. It was in the middle of nowhere, a big three story house and, in case you were wondering, it has a basement,” with a shuddering breath he continued, “a big basement that can doesn’t let any sound escape no matter how hard you scream and scream.”

Dean knew the horrible part was coming. It wasn’t only in his brother’s voice and what he had just said, but the way his body was shaking again; the way his pupils got dilated so big that Dean could barely see a ring of hazel. Dean started rubbing Sam’s back giving him silent support and trying to remind Sam that he wasn’t alone.

“When I got to the house there was a big, burly man that opened the door. He was my height, middle aged and he seemed helpful at first when I told him who I was and what I needed. He led me to his library and I got straight to work. He was helpful bringing me books, food and drinks. It was stupid of me to let, to let my guard down. I basically forgot everything you and dad had taught me,” Sam snorted, “I’m pretty sure dad would’ve torn me a new one considering how far I trusted this stranger.”

“That same night I got there, he told me to get a break and gave me a beer to drink. I took it without hesitation, that’s how stupid I was, and drank it all. After I finished, I felt woozy and started to figure out I was drugged. I looked up to the hunter that had given me the beer and all I could see was him smiling and heard him say ‘This is going to be so much fun, Winchester.’

Sam gave a shuddering breath and stayed silent for a few minutes trying to calm down his breathing. Dean couldn’t really do much except hold his kid and make ‘shushing’ noises to calm Sam down. Dean almost felt like letting Sam stop but he really needed to find out what happened so let he would let Sam continue when he was able to calm down.

Sam snorted and wiped his tears and whispered, “When I woke up I was tied spread eagle to a bed with the guy’s face over me, smiling like a cat that caught the canary.”

‘So if it isn’t little Sammy Winchester all alone, without big brother to help him out this time. Isn’t that interesting?’

“He had put a hand over my thigh and that’s when I finally realized that I was, that I was,” he gave a shuddering breath and started trembling so hard that Dean thought Sam was having a seizure.

“Hey, hey Sammy, it’s okay. I am here now. Hey, Sammy, calm down. Hey!” Dean shook Sam to see if that would bring Sam back to right now. It helped, a little. Sam did stop shaking but he didn’t stop crying.

“I was naked,” he sobbed out suddenly and Dean’s heart stopped for a second before it started beating again a thousand miles a minute because with what Sam had just said everything made sense to Dean. The fear, the way Sam didn’t like to be touched, why he had freaked out at the bar when Mike had tried to touch him and why he started panicking when Dean first tried to take his jacket off.

That little something that was bothering Dean in the back of his mind suddenly clicked and just like he predicted, he now didn’t want to know. But he had to so he could get his little brother through this and help him any way he could. Sam just kept talking like if he nothing had happened.

“He started rubbing up and down my thighs close enough to my dick, but you know, he never actually touched it… At least not yet,” Dean could barely hear the last part because Sam had said it so low. Dean was in shock and could barely move, he could only keep rubbing circles on Sam’s back.

“‘So you’re the famous Sam Winchester. Hell’s personal bitch boy, you don’t seem like much but hey I’ve hunted enough things to know that what you see isn’t always what you get.’”

“By that point I was past mad, I was furious and spitting out curses at him, struggling against the bondages and he just stood there looking amused. Like if I was a mouse trapped under a paw and he was the cat that was amusing himself before tearing the mouse apart.”

“By the time I stopped I was out of breath and just stayed there limp and without any energy. He started caressing my face and said, ‘such a beautiful bitch-boy.’”

“I told him to go fuck himself and he laughed loudly, saying, ‘Why would I do that when I have you here. I don’t usually swing that way but hey, what’s the point of hunting evil if you can’t have fun with it first.’”

“My mind hadn’t really processed that until I saw him taking off his clothes. I redoubled my efforts but, it was useless,” Sam had a faraway look in his eyes and Dean knew that Sam wouldn’t stop talking now even if Dean wanted him to.

“He got on top of me and I could, God, I could feel its hardness on my thighs. He started kissing my neck and going up to kiss my lips; I bit his lips when he got to my mouth and made him bleed,” Sam chuckled darkly, “he slapped me twice in the face. Dean I think I was bitch slapped,” he said this with a bit of hysteria in his voice and Dean had no idea what to say to this.

“That’s when he spoke again, ‘find you little bitch. I was going to go nice and slow for you but since you want it rough, I’ll give it to you rough.’”

“He then spat on his hands and started rubbing his dick saying, ‘be happy you even get my spit, whore, cause that’s all the lube you’re going to get,’ I tried struggling again and kicking out but, it was,” he shrugged, “it was pointless, you know.” Again Sam stopped for a few minutes and Dean thought that maybe he had fallen asleep until he spoke again.

“That’s when I felt the pain between my thighs. It burned and hurt so much, I felt I was being torn in two,” Sam was sobbing again, “He said if I didn’t relax and take it like a good little bitch it was going to hurt more. But I couldn’t relax and it hurt so much, Dee. The pain went from my ass all the way up to my neck and back down again. I just wanted it to stop, I wanted to die but he kept going. It went on for like what it felt like an eternity before he came and collapsed on top of me.”

Dean had his chin on top of Sam’s head and was quietly crying on it. His baby boy had lost a different kind of innocence. He had gotten, God, Dean couldn’t even think the word. Dean had bagged a few guys, not many, but a few and it was okay. He had only bottomed once and even with the guy using lube it had still hurt. After that experience he had never had sex with any other guy. But Sam, his little Sammy, had gotten that experience without being prepared; it was just taken from him.

Dean wanted to punch someone, kill something. No, he wanted to kill the bastard that had done this to his little brother. Dean noticed that Sam never mentioned the guy’s name but Dean would find out. He would find out and go after that dickwad and kill him slowly.

 “He got up a little and looked at me saying ‘ready for round two?’ I shook my head and kept saying no and started pleading for him not to. He just gave a sadistic smile and got hold of my dick. He licked my from my balls all the way up to the tip of my dick.”

“‘Oh, Sammy, don’t worry. This time I not just going to take, I’ll give back too. You’ll like it I promise. Besides, you’re already opened from earlier and the blood will make for great lube.”

“He winked at me started sucking me and playing with my balls. After a while I started responding. Guess that does make me a whore. I mean who responds when they’re getting raped.”

That made Dean speak up, “Hey, what happened to you was out of your control. Sometimes people respond to these types of things. The body may like it even while your brain is saying no. So do…not…blame yourself. No, look at me,” Sam had buried his face in Dean’s chest, “It…Was…Not your fault, Sam. Okay?” Sam looked at him but Dean knew Sam didn’t believe him. Well then, Dean would just have to repeat it until Sam did believe it.

Sam started again as if there had been no interruption, “He fucked me three more times and made me cum four times. By the time he was finished I was so sore. Everything hurt even my dick. Did you know that if you make a person cum a lot it makes the dick hurt and it gets swollen and purple? I didn’t know that, wish I still didn’t know that.” Sam gave a chuckle that seemed so out of place at the moment.

“Anyway, he called in three other friends over and they had me for a month. They would love to use me as their personal fuck toy. I even learned how to deep throat. Aren’t you proud of me Dean, your baby brother can put a whole dick in his mouth and swallow a bunch of cum.”

Dean hated how Sam was talking about himself. So crude, like if he was nothing and really, if he had been kept for a month by four sadistic, soon to be dead, bastards Dean guessed that after a while one would start thinking that. Especially since Sam had a lot of self-loathing going on, this would just hurt his esteem even more.

“They would love to torture me not only sexually but physically, too. They loved to cane me and whip me. They would use a bunch of sex toys that I didn’t even know had existed.”

Dean thought about the scar on Sam’s leg; had that been a whip or a cane?

“They had a special whip that had spikes on it. Apparently, it was their favorite hunting weapon against werewolves as it had silver on it. They used it on my leg, let wrap up and then just yanked it out. It was one of the worst pains I’ve felt here on Earth. They used it on my back once but they had whipped me some earlier it was kinda of numb so I didn’t feel it as bad.”

Dean felt his heart couldn’t take it anymore. He wondered how bad his little brother’s back was and made a mental note to take a look later.

“They told me how they knew I was hell’s bitch because of Walt and Roy; they told them everything about me. Or at least everything they did know.”

Walt and Roy; Dean should’ve killed those bastards when he had the chance. Sam gave another laugh that was hysterical this time.

“Apparently, Roy was a cousin to one of my tormentors. Walt and Roy had died during the Apocalypse when they took on one too many demons. His cousin loved to get creative with the torture devices and would fuck me as much as he could.”

“Anyway, after a month they let me go. I think they were going to kill me but one of the nicer guys, and I use that term in the loosest definition possible, convinced the others to let me go. So first they cleaned me with an enema. Did you know that I can take up to 6 gallons of water in me? Then they caned my feet for three or four hours. I wasn’t really paying attention to the time with all the pain I was in. Then they tied a rope around my neck and made me walk 5 miles through the woods naked and barefoot to where they had parked the Impala.”

“Just when I thought I was home free they put me over the car’s hood and they all took turns fucking me one more time. Well, they each took 3 turns but you get the point. Then they just left me there, they said if they heard of me again they were going to make what I had gone through that month feel like heaven.”

Sam had been too engrossed in telling his story that he hadn’t noticed Dean outright crying into Sam’s hair. Sam felt guilty and put a head on Deans Bicep.

“It’s okay, Dee. I’m here now, see. I’m alive. Please don’t cry, please don’t cry. I am sorry, so sorry. Please don’t cry, see I’m here.”

Dean pulled away from Sam a little and used his sleeve of his jacket to clean his face of tears and mucus, uncaring if it was disgusting.

He cupped Sam’s face and suddenly replied, “Baby boy, are you trying to comfort me? After everything you’ve been through, you’re trying to comfort _me?_ ”

Sam looked down thinking he had just done something bad. He _had_ told Dean everything that had happened. Dean probably was still there out of some misplaced guilt. Dean probably had just figured out how _dirty_ and _impure_ Sam was that Dean doesn’t even want Sam to touch him, let alone comfort him.

Sam started pulling away from Dean but he wasn’t having that. There was no way in hell Dean was _ever_ going to let go of Sam ever again. Sam gave a sound of surprise when Dean pulled him closer and Dean started stroking Sam’s hair again.

“My brave, brave boy. My strong little baby. I am so, _so_ sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, but I’m here now, okay. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you anymore, okay baby, big brother is here now. I’ve got you, I have you now Sammy. God, I’m so sorry.” Dean was sobbing at the end and Sam could do nothing but stare at his big brother and wipe away his tears.

“I’m not brave Dean. I’m stupid and useless and a big coward. Besides you didn’t even hear what I did next that would probably make you think differently. After they let me go I ran. I got changed, got into the car and drove for two days without stopping except for gas. I’m sorry I got a lot of blood on the upholstery but I cleaned it good so you can’t tell now, right?” Dean wanted to scream out because Sam was worried that Dean would be mad about ruined upholstery when _Sam_ had been _fucking_ bleeding out from God knows how many places. 

 “After the third night I got tired of running. I started feeling empty so I went into a liquor store and bought the most expensive and strongest bottle of whiskey they had. Then I drove off and stopped on the side of a highway and started getting drunk. My emotions were all over the place and I was disgusted with myself. I wished you were there with me but then I thought that maybe it’s a good thing you weren’t”

“Then you couldn’t see how far off I had fallen. So I drank then I took out my gun and shot myself right over the heart. Do you still think I’m brave Dean? I took the coward’s way out; you’re little brother is a coward.” Sam was sobbing into Dean’s jacket again.

Dean held on to Sam even tighter, if that was possible. He had almost lost his little brother permanently and he doesn’t even blame Sam for doing what he did. Dean probably would’ve done the same thing. Sam had been alone and just gone through hell; of course he would try to find anyway to escape the pain. Dean at least had had Benny and Cass while in purgatory but Sam had… no one, absolutely alone.

“Anyway after I shot myself it turned out there was an ambulance coming and saw me try to kill myself. They took me to the nearest hospital and left me there. Whoever was driving that ambulance, it’s basically the reason I’m alive now, and ain’t that just grand?” Sam said the last line sarcastically, but for Dean, those nameless drivers were the best people on the planet for saving his little brother.

“They kept me in the hospital for 2 months to recuperate and put me in the mental unit for a month and a half,” Sam shrugged, “I kept trying to kill myself and finding way to hurt myself. Finally, I had enough and escaped. I had found out where they kept the Impala, stole it and drove. I was planning to drive off a cliff with the Impala. You know, go out with one last big bang, when I hit the dog, Riot.”

“I wasn’t really all there so I took him to the nearest vet and she guilt me into taking the dog. So I found a motel and stayed there. Turns out she was staying at the same motel. So we talked, she found out about the scars and suicide attempts, but that’s all she knew, and she told me how lonely she was. We were like two puzzle pieces that were lost but were trying to make it work, you know. So we rented a house and I got better, even though I still missed you, and then a few months later you called and I came to you,” Sam shrugged his shoulders again, “and that’s it.”

Dean knew that Sam had sugar coated a lot and there were some things he still wasn’t talking about but at the moment Dean was too damn grateful for a _dog_ that his sensitive little brother had ran over, because without that dog Sam would most likely be dead. Sam thumped Dean’s chest lightly to grab his attention.

“Deanie, please don’t hate me. I am so, so sorry. I…” Sam didn’t finish that sentence because he started sobbing. Not little sobs that he had been giving earlier but big ugly sobs, the kind of sob that got a person’s eyes swollen and mucus running down their face.

Dean just held him there and rocked him. After an hour Sam just lost consciousness and went limp in Dean’s arms. Poor kid must have tired himself out with everything that has happened not just earlier but of also telling his story to Dean.

Dean maneuvered himself to get out of the bed and tuck Sam in more comfortably. He wiped Sam’s face with the towel and started to pull the cover up when he remembered what Sam had said about being whipped in the back.

Dean moved behind Sam and pulled up his shirt.

He suddenly let the little bit of strength he had go and went into shock. Sam’s back was full of scars, scars that weren’t there a little over a year ago. All of a sudden Dean’s knees gave out as the full force of what happened to Sam overcame him.

Dean started pulling his hair, hoping that he could get to his brain and get the story out of his head. But he couldn’t, it was there until the day he died and if he was ever reborn, he would probably still remember.

After a few minutes of being on his knees and pulling his hair, he got up and put his hands in his pockets to try to warm them up a bit. That’s when he felt the card in his pocket that the red hair had given him earlier. He took it out and read it:

**Rape and Sexual Assault Life Line**

**If you or someone you know has been raped or sexually assaulted please call our number, we can help.**

The card was the thing that broke that camel’s back. The word that Dean didn’t want to think and Sam hadn’t spoken was suddenly there bold faced.

_Raped._ His baby brother had been captured and _raped_ by a quartet of cowardly, sadistic, perverted sons of bitches.

Dean suddenly made a sound that was half sob of sorrow and half scream of murderous rage. To anybody who heard that scream, all they could about was where was the wounded animal that can make such a sound, never once thinking it was a man who did it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. It’s my first time writing any torture and/or rape scenes. Sorry if it wasn’t that good.   
> Anyway thanks for reading.  
> TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t own Supernatural. Warning: Contains graphic talk of the aftermath of rape and torture, talk of torture, suicide attempt, self-harm and depression. If any of these are triggers please don’t read.
> 
> Just so you know, I know nothing about bullet wounds except for what I’ve seen on TV, I am pretty sure most of what I am putting is inaccurate. I did try doing some research but I didn’t understand most of it…
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam fell asleep around eight in the morning, by ten Dean had broken every flower vase, lamps and decorations that he could get his hands on and thrown a chair or two against the wall out of anger. He basically destroyed the whole fucking room; Sam didn’t even stir which just showed how tired the kid was. By eleven in the morning, Dean had done a small path on the ugly, old carpet after pacing so much. By eleven thirty he had drunk the last bottles of beers they had and sat down on the last remaining chair with the laptop open.

It’s obvious to Dean that Sam hadn’t told him a lot of what had happened, which means that Sam went through even worst stuff; as if what he said earlier wasn’t bad enough. Dean _needed_ to know what happened. He also needed to know the fuckers names but first, he needed to find Sam’s medical files.

So using what Frank had taught Dean about hacking, he started a search to find out where Sam had stayed, what they did to him, any medical problems he could have (physical and mental) and how he got out. It wasn’t hard, really; He knew Sam’s alias for emergencies (Dean was pretty sure Sam would’ve been too busy looking for him to change the fake insurance and name), put in suicide attempt on the medical records, Sam’s height and weight; bingo only two names show up. One in Ohio and one in Texas; Dean clicked on the one in Texas and… There, Sam’s picture and files.

Dean sucked in his breath when he saw Sam’s face. He had two black eyes, his forehead had a long, but shallow, gash running across it, and his lips were busted and a little swollen; as if someone had kissed him too hard.

Dean clenched his fists and went through Sam’s medical files. The first thing that concerned him was if Sam’s gunshot wound. There had been complications during the surgery; Sam had flat line four times while the doctors were operating on him. The good news was that Sam had actually missed his heart when he shot himself. It had grazed his heart and hit two of his veins but the bullet had gone straight out of his back and, by some miracle, missing the lungs, major arteries and spine. Dean kept reading and they had found high levels of alcohol in Sam’s system, whip marks on his back that were in risk of infections and the whip mark on his leg had actually _been_ infected before he got to the hospital. He had rope burns on his wrists, arms, ankles and around his neck. What got Dean the most, though, is what had gone on in Sam’s private areas.

His anus had been torn and he had sixty stitches put on him. His penis had been purple; he wasn’t getting enough blood circulation to it. One for Sam’s testicles had been swollen. The doctors had taken pictures (Dean was deciding on whether or not he should see them) because if someone is suspected of being rape they had to get evidence and contact the police as soon as possible. The police weren’t ever able to talk to Sam, though, because apparently Sam’s health had other ideas.

Sam had coded three times because of surgery complications and one of the medicines they had given him had caused him a high fever and seizures. They had him on the strongest antibiotics for the infection on his leg and on his back because by that point it had also developed an infection. Sam had also been in a coma the whole time after the surgery. The doctors had little hope that Sam would pull through but, in the end, he did. He had been in critical condition for almost two months before he woke up. That’s when another set of problems had started.

The next day, after Sam woke up, he had gotten out of bed (the doctors must have been surprised) and taken an almost lethal amount of morphine. The only reason he was found was because a doctor had to get something from the medical supply closet. They had him restrained for two weeks and after they knew Sam didn’t have any weird side effects or other problems, they moved him to a psych unit.

Dean had hesitated a little; contemplating on whether or not he could actually read how Sam was after all he had been through that month. In the end Dean read the file, if Sam survived through that trauma, Dean couldn’t just stop because he was afraid of what he see and read. He owed it to Sam. Besides, Dean had to find out what Sam had, what medications he had been taken and what had he gone through in the ward.

When Dean opened Sam’s files the first thing that he noticed was the big, red letters stamped on the first sheet, ‘ESCAPED’. Then Dean started reading the rest of the reports and he paled significantly the more he read.

Sam had been diagnosed with manic depression, anxiety, panic disorder, and paranoia as well as hallucinations; the depression Sam been so bad that he had developed psychosis. He had had seizures almost every day and no matter what the nurses and doctors tried, whenever Sam was left alone for even a minute, he found different ways to harm himself. He would get angry at just about anything and would get anxiety attacks if a male came to close to him. He would throw tantrums and just start yelling incoherently, or so the report said. Sam also wouldn’t look at anyone in the eye; he had low self-esteem and thought he was the lowest of trash. He kept using crude words to talk about himself which Dean noticed when Sam was talking about what happened to him.

Sam had tried to kill himself three times in the unit. The first time he had gotten his bed sheets and stolen a few more and hung himself at night; a nurse found him and they almost weren’t able to bring him back because he had probably been hanging for 8 minutes (they check every 15 but the nurses were really worried about Sam so they checked more often). After that every night he was put in the room under observation and restraints. Dean clicked on the video they had for observation; he couldn’t help his curiosity.

There was Sam, his baby brother, restrained and twisting around to get the leather cuffs off of him. Sam had lost a lot of weight, he was pale and had deep black circles under his eyes; he probably didn’t get enough sleep at the time. His eyes were puffy and tears were still coming down his cheeks. Dean heard a sob and then Sam said Dean’s name. If possible Dean felt his heart break even more.

Dean watched as his little brother kept twisting around and calling his name until a doctor came in with a syringe. Sam tried to get away and kept saying ‘no’ but as soon as the syringe was put in his arm and the liquid was put in him he fell asleep. Dean didn’t know whether to be grateful or sad.

The second suicide attempt had involved a broken chair; piece of said chair had then almost ended in Sam’s guts if the orderlies hadn’t tackled Sam in time. He had been put in solitary confinement for the rest of the day and the next day, too.

Dean kept reading and found out the last suicide attempt was managed because Sam had stolen a bunch of meds and had taken them all. The doctors sent him to have his stomach pumped and to make sure everything was okay. After that attempt, the doctors decided to move him into another facility that was for longer term patients and had it was its own building and had many more doctors, nurses, and different producers that went from cognitive behavioral therapy to shock therapy. That had been after Sam had been in that unit for a month and half; that explained why Sam had escaped, then.

Dean went to the next page and found all the meds they had Sam on; clonazepam for seizures and anti-anxiety, Prozac for depression, Zoloft for panic disorder and PTSD, and Abilify for the psychosis and manic depression. Suddenly it was all too much for Dean and he couldn’t close the windows fast enough. In trying to close all the windows, though, he accidentally opened the pictures of Sam when he was first brought to the hospital.

Dean felt like he had been killed and brought back to life multiply times at once (which he had before) and his stomach was rebelling against the little that Dean had put in it the night before.  The first thing Dean saw was Sam’s back. It had practically been shredded to pieces; mutilated by whips and canes that had been used by human monsters. Dean could see barely see any skin left on his baby brother’s back.

Next was Sam’s legs; when the report had said infected it had been a fucking understatement. Sam’s left leg was black all around the whip mark. There was pus coming out of the wound and a yellowish kind of liquid and the leg had been very swollen. How Sam had been able to drive for three days and walk on that leg was a mystery to Dean. Dean was surprised the doctors hadn’t thought to amputate it.

Then Dean saw Sam’s buttocks, they had ugly raised red and purple welts. Those must have hurt like hell. What killed Dean and made him sick was when he saw the picture of Sam’s anus. Torn had been an understatement and Dean was surprised it had only need sixty stitches. It was bloody and painful looking and Dean just couldn’t hold it in anymore; he ran to the bathroom, closed the door and vomited in the toilet wishing he could unsee what he just saw.

Sam woke to the sound of somebody throwing up their guts. Sam lifted his head a little and looked around the room; he came to the conclusion that Dean was the one in the bathroom. Then Sam looked again and saw that the room had been destroyed. There was broken glass all on one side of the room. Broken wood that Sam was pretty sure had been the chairs, Dean’s pillow had been torn apart and there was cotton all over the bed. Lamps had been shattered and there was a hole on the wall that Sam could only guess had been made by having someone repeatedly punch it. Dean had basically torn the room upside down.

“Well, there goes our deposit,” he got up and winced when he felt the mother of all headaches attack him. He was more than grateful that Dean had left the curtains up and closed on the windows. He was just going to go check on Dean to make sure he was alright when it suddenly hit him that Dean knew what had happened to him.

Sam felt himself lose his balance and plopped down on the bed, “Oh, God.”

Sam suddenly felt that _he_ was going to be sick. Dean knew. It was probably why he was vomiting in the bathroom, too. He probably woke up pissed off at Sam for being so stupid, destroyed the room, maybe gotten drunk and was now sick knowing that his little brother was a whore and a coward.

Sam suddenly felt the need to run. Run from Dean, run from his past, run from what had happened to him. He got up, got his duffel and put on the table while he started looking for his shoes. Then he saw the laptop and that’s when Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He felt his blood leave his body as he stood frozen looking at what was on the laptop; it was him and all his sins were there and Dean had probably seen it all; Sam had stood there looking at the screen for like felt like hours before he was able to move again. Now Sam knew he really had to leave, he didn’t want his brother to look at him after he had seen how pathetic Sam was.

Dean washed his mouth and face after he had thrown everything into the toilet and even stayed there dry heaving; even now his stomach was rebelling, trying to throw up more things but there was nothing left. Dean looked at himself in the mirror and saw failure. He had failed to protect Sammy, he had failed to come back in time to save him; fuck he had failed even after he got out of purgatory not noticing there was something wrong with Sam. Throwing shit at Sam’s face when Sam himself had gone through his own personal hell. No more. He was going to be there for Sam. Screw everything and everyone else. They had saved the world so many times and this is how they got repaid?

Sam had literally thrown himself into hell with the fucking _Devil_ and Michael and what does he get for saving this stupid planet? He gets raped, beaten, and tortured for his troubles. As if hell hadn’t been enough, this stinking planet had decided to also fuck Sam over. But, Dean was here now and he would be damned again before he let anything else happen to his Sammy. With a look of determination and his mind set he opened the bathroom door, just in time to see Sam get his duffel and go towards the door.

“Sam, where do you think you’re going,” Dean said with his heart in throat and walking towards Sam to close the door before he left. Dean got a hold of Sam’s bicep, pulled him towards the bed that wasn’t destroyed and sat him there.

“Sammy, what’s the matter?”

“You saw the pictures, you saw me like that. God, please don’t hate me, Dean, please!” Sam sobbed that last word out.

Dean started berating himself in his mind, ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why in the hell did I leave the laptop open? No wonder Sam’s freaking out, seeing everything that happened to him right after he relived everything by telling me.’

“Hey, Sam, look at me,” Sam looked at Dean but Dean hated what he saw, Sam was scared. Dean was pretty sure it was of him, too, not of what Sam had just seen. Or maybe it was a combination of both, who really knew? Dean doubted that Sam himself knew.

“I’m saying this again and I’ll say it as many times as I have to until you believe; I don’t hate you, Sam. I could never hate you; you’re my little brother, the kid I raised. I changed your diapers and saw you take your first steps. I don’t hate you, Sam.”

Sam wiped his tears with the back of his hands and hugged Dean around the waist. Dean started petting Sam’s hair; Sam loved having is hair played with, it always calmed him down ever since he was small. They stayed like that for a few minutes then Sam pulled away. Dean sat by Sam on the bed, making sure that both of their shoulders were touching.

After a few minutes Sam broke the silence, “I’m scared Dean and I don’t even know why.”

Dean rubbed Sam’s back and said, “I know, Sammy. I’m scared, too, so you’re not alone on this.”

Sam pulled away from Dean and looked him straight in the eyes, “What do you have to be scared about, Dean?”

“Sammy, for being so smart, you can be so slow sometimes. I’m scared of not being enough for you; I’m scared that I won’t be able to help you. Mostly, I’m scared that I’ll lose you, Sam. You’re everything to me. You’re my brother, best friend and kid all wrapped into one gigantic Sasquatch.”

Sam thought about that for a second or two and then he gave Dean a small smile. It was just a smile, it didn’t hold any bitterness to it and that made Dean happy. Dean couldn’t wait for the time that Sam actually gave one of those big smiles of his that showed his dimples, but at the moment, Dean would take what he could get. Dean slapped Sam on the knee and got up.

“Come on, it’s one in the afternoon and it’s time to eat. Want to come with?”

Sam doubted he could really eat anything, he wasn’t really hungry, and he suspected that it was the same for Dean. However Sam got up because he just wanted to spend time with his brother just like before, before this whole fiasco started. He stretched a little and followed his brother to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last chapter. For those of you that wanted to see Dean hunting down those S.O.B, don’t worry I’m making it a series and I felt that Dean deserved a whole story so he could get creative.  
> Sorry, this story is short, I was going to write an epilogue but I felt it what I wanted to write didn’t go and this was a better ending so I’m going to write a one shot in either all of Sam’s POV or mostly. Keep a look out for that.  
> Hope you liked this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> First time I've written something like this, so pleas be nice to me.


End file.
